


Body Language

by Kitsoa



Category: BIRDMEN - 田辺イエロウ | Tanabe Yellow
Genre: Freeform, Gen, I was just.... playing with the dynamic and trying to let loose some little headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsoa/pseuds/Kitsoa
Summary: Eishi and Rei have a conversation about the little things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just sat down and wrote a conversation because I really like toying with these two.

Umino is a sight to behold.

Eishi let’s his eyes linger a little too long, knowing just how the female birdman’s flying style spikes his blood pressure. In his current transformed state, he is definitely primed to leak his thoughts. Phrases at risk include: “ _Damn_ her wing mass leaves little to the imagination” and “Does she need to move her hips in that aerial spin?” She stands a criminal to his propriety and it doesn’t help that the gentle flutter of her eyes in his memory places that physical infatuation on firmer ground, especially when she is literally far from landing herself.

As if to answer him, she performs a backwards loop, twisting her body at the arcing crest after an almost poetic extension of her arm. Her wings clasp tightly to her form as she dives.

“Nice!” Kamoda swoops out of her fly space below her. He waits for the girl to halt her descent with a smooth unfurling before falling to meet her momentum driven rise.

“You make that look so easy!” The green birdman’s flying gait is most distinct when he’s hovering. Labored downbeat strokes with a hungry grab for air. Then, in an exchange Eishi could only label as ‘casual’-- Kamoda inches into her fly space and brushes the tips of his wings against Umino’s with a simply placed downward stroke. The girl returns the gesture all while chatting about her flying technique.

Eishi allows himself to fixate on the wing brushing. He clicks his ballpoint pen, grateful for his perch on the cliffside, permitting a steady hand for notes. Observation is his game, but it’s only recently that a stray comment from Sagisawa inspired a different, social angle to his approach. That and the string of Awakenings in the group brings the topic of instincts to the forefront. How are they different? What does it mean? Touching wings… sharing thoughts… was that intimate?...Kamoda does possess affections for her… and she _really_ looks good flying…really _really_ good.

“Relax. It’s innocent.” The voice beside him is bemused. Eishi whips his head to face the knowing look of Sagisawa, arms crossed and half a mind on the scene before them.

“I didn’t say anything!” He defends in a muted shrill. The others have the crashing waves and howling winds to drown him out. The quick motion shuffles the radiating heat from his cheeks into focus.

“No but you were thinking it.” Eishi swallows, cold and thick with the paranoia.

“M-my thoughts...leak?” He stumbles through a gripping anxiety that spins his processors. He has been ogling Umino for the past ten minutes.

Sagisawa only laughs at his sudden fear. He takes the opportunity to sit himself next to the smaller bird. Half perched, half attempting to sit cross-legged, Sagisawa curls his talons into his foundation before continuing.

“Don’t worry. I’m good at noticing these things…” He gives a sly tap of his temple, the red of his eyes practically glowing. Eishi relaxes in response, only having to cover up the wounds of his pride than heal them completely.

“But yeah,” Sagisawa continues. “that wing tap was just affectionate. I don't even think Kamoda knows he was doing it.”

“Seems familiar to me.” Eishi grumbles on his defeat. Above their perch he notices that Takayama has joined the duo and is demonstrating some kind of trajectory shifting technique. He throws himself skyward with an impossibly strong wingbeat before letting his momentum stop his flight on a dime. The sire birdman then does an incredible 90 degree pivot. Sagisawa hums in amusement.

“I feel, there’s going to be a tendency to place our interactions against normal human standards.”

“What do you mean?” He understands the claim, he just wants Sagisawa’s insight. The fair-haired birdman rocks back onto the heels of his palms, contemplative.

“I guess it’s like going to a different culture and trying to figure out the differences in values and customs... I have a family acquaintance in France who greets people with a kiss, but there are couples here who haven’t so much as pecked each other on the lips. Different cultures, different customs. We--” he makes an unnecessary gesture to the five bird kids hanging by a deserted cliffside-- “are an entirely new species, so we’re bound to bring with us our own set of customs.” Spoken like a true cultural migrant. Sensitive to the values of subcultures.

Kamoda’s attempted 90 degree turn morphs into upside down flying in the background. The wires got crossed somewhere in the learning process.

“We all still have a human upbringing, that _does_ inform our judgement.” Eishi narrows his eyes. Umino joins Kamoda’s flying style several meters above them. She’s the image of relaxed. “Nature versus nurture, right?” The professor dropped that term a lot. He had a feeling Sagisawa was more attuned to its definition.

“True...” Sagisawa says this softly, as though unsure his words have any substance. The subtext is there. Sure they were raised human, but how much of that will matter with a pair of wings that bordered on sentient? Eishi never picks the brain of anyone other than Takayama so he never knows how strong they feel it. The phantom yearn and the prickling ache. Takayama also once mentioned the wing’s ‘memory’. Personified and active. It’s a daunting prospect,--for how do you fight something within you that possesses an agenda? Anything was possible.

Eishi takes a moment to swallow back a sudden onset of stomach dropping anxiety. He revisits Professor Tatsume’s words.

_‘You can beat down even fate.’_

Eishi huffs a laugh out of the blue. Sagisawa cocks his head.

“And I thought puberty was the worst of it...” His companion cracks a smile at that, a little surprised, but ever encouraging.

“Making a new culture sounds like a tall order _White_.” Eishi emphasizes the codename like a joke, pivoting the conversation with a musing lean onto his hands. He mindlessly shifts his wings out of the way. “What does that entail?”

Sagisawa hums. “Well, I say we just sit back and watch… a little compare and contrast here and there… but it should just... happen.” He makes an explosion gesture with a flash of his claws to emphasize the final word.

“And what are we looking for with our great powers of perception?” Eishi feels the facetious approach entice a more natural rhythm from the Trickster. He in turn catches the tone with a knowing smirk.

“An easy feature to distinguish in culture is communication. Language, lingo, delivery.” He rattles. Kamoda and Takayama meanwhile are climbing in altitude for some reason.

“We got that down. Tweeting’s pretty bird-kid exclusive… though I wouldn’t call it a language by definition. We’re still _thinking_ in Japanese...”

“Who knows? There’s no telling if it surpasses the language barrier.”

Eishi raises a brow at that. “Sounds like a future experiment.”

“I’ll be happy to oblige.” The resident bilingual mocks a subservient honor. “But spoken-- er... _telepathic_ \- communication isn’t the only thing to look out for. Body language is key.”

Ah, full circle.

“I’m ‘guessing’ these wings aren’t just for fancy flying.” The conversation is indulgent, the process of pointing out the unspoken is now an exercise in verbalization. Talking about it makes it more real, if they are conscious of the differences they might be able to notice when it slips away. Eishi is assuming the role of an engaged student. Just above them the green and red birdmen appear from the line of clouds plummeting at insane speeds, helmets up-- a race it seems.

“I don't know about you, but they seem to move in conjunction with everyone’s emotions.”

“Well, not all of us are hypersensitive empaths…”

Takayama wins the race, reaching Umino’s mark with a wingspans length of lead. There’s a sneering joke about aerodynamics and baldness running through Eishi’s mind as he finishes his quip to Sagisawa. There’s an exasperated sigh in response.

“That’s not-- _Listen_ , Umino’s an open book. You’ve noticed the little fluttering thing she does.”

“Fluttering thing?” She always seems to bat her eyelashes in a manner he’d describe that way, but he just assumes it’s his… enamored perspective. He finds himself watching the female birdman climb the sky, presumably to have her race with Takayama. She has a distinct wing gait, opting for less work and more ease with a slow rising corkscrew ascension, catching updrafts with cupped wings and stabilizing with a precise circling slice. Takayama meanwhile is flying up at Umino’s pace. They’re circling in a sort of dance. He always seems to coddle her...

“Yeah, when she’s really excited about something she kind of…” Sagisawa leans forward to uncurl his wings from the ground. Then for a second Eishi believes the Trickster’s been shocked by electricity because he spasms a jump, moving his folded wings in shallow flaps. “-- over and over again... It’s like a tail-wag on a dog. She does it without fail anytime Takayama so much as _breathes_.”

That snaps Eishi’s attention far too quickly.

“And then there’s _you…_ ” Sagisawa is suppressing an arrogant and knowing smile. He crosses his arms while he tilts his head in a judgmental once-over. “You like looking _big_.” 

“...Big?”

“Oh yeah. Wings never completely folded, hovering slightly over your shoulders.” He demonstrates his description expanding his silhouette into a positively looming image.

Eishi self consciously snaps his wings tight to his body.

There’s a laugh. “It’s all about the body language. Silent, but sure.” Now he just sounds like some elaborate proverb. In the distance Umino and Takayama are racing, a mere second from the flapping Kamoda finish line.

“So it doesn’t even matter if I’m leaking my thoughts through a tweet… my wings are going to tell the world.”

“Essentially.”

“Nothing’s personal anymore…”

“Hey hey, there you go judging the birdman by the human standard. Who’s to say we’re built for secrets?” Sensing a lull in the conversation, Sagisawa rolls forward to his knees.

Kamoda is rushing Umino in excitement. Takayama lets her win. He does a sweeping dance with a strong air current. Behind their conversation lies the phantom trails of a commercial airliner.

Eishi hums. Short and low. “I do.”

Sagisawa doesn’t respond as he rises to his feet. He simply extends a hand to Eishi. The Bellwether’s mouth is a small line as he considers taking it. The memory of Takayama’s touchy ability hovers in his mind and he wonders from where his caution should lie. The standing birdman meanwhile assumes his own expressive posture; wings dropped low and submissive like a dragging cape. It’s sympathetic and exhibits no challenge to Eishi’s wounded identity. Eishi briefly superimposes the more default wing-folded posture on Sagisawa and feels a subtle twist of discomfort in the wake of his imagination, as though offended. While subconscious in nature, the instinctual pull toward silent expressions are irresistible.

He takes his hand and finds his hard expression soften in a weak musing as he pulls himself to his feet. It manifests as sigh, a smile hidden on the outskirts. Sagisawa perks. “Hm?”

“We’re like a pack of test-y wolves.” Eishi replies. There’s humor on his lips. “It’s so animal… and kind of surreal to notice.”

“The perks of a mid-life species change.” Sagisawa shrugs as though explaining off the weather. “Though you speak for yourself with the wolf comment. You’re so far the only one I’ve noticed to get test-y over some body language.” It’s a tease and a wry grin lights the dialogue.

Eishi’s brow furrows in defense and he makes an effort to protest before the Trickster continues. “But we can’t really blame you I guess. Additional symptoms of being an _Alpha_?” The way his voice curls is infuriating, but the moniker flushes his face with a red embarrassment.

He had gathered a while back that Takayama was dubbing him the leader, but putting it in pack terms like that weakens his knees. “We’re not _beasts_.” He grumbles with little conviction. With the amount of meta-analysis and scientific method being thrown around as of late, Eishi had his personal misgivings.

“Without a doubt. But we certainly aren’t human now are we?” Sagisawa smirks with a knowing glance. Always on the contrary-- Eishi was finding his presence to be intellectually stimulating despite any apprehensions around his greater theatrics. He might admit a fondness for the way it inspired his own wit.

“You’re insufferable.” Spoken like a true friend.

“Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Eishi narrows his eyes, suddenly feeling indignant.

_Hmm. ‘Alpha’._

He flicked the switch, channeling his companion’s need for flare.

“You know, if I had to make a guess, I’d say you were undermining my authority with that attitude.” Eishi takes a step into Sagisawa’s space, blinking his eyes back into a brilliant red as he cocked a challenging smirk. His wings extend through his intrusion. The motion is slow. So subtle it’s undetectable had they not left their tell in the forefront of the conversation. By the time he’s halted his space encroaching he’s gained a much larger percentage of surface area to his presence.

Sagisawa lights up instantly, far too giddy at the threat. His lips purse as his eyes blaze the same color. While still holding his wings in composure behind him, his wing mass feathers seem to flare with a static electricity. Reservation was not the term to describe the dramatic Sagisawa Rei, but ‘in-control’ fit a good majority of the time.

“I _am_ the president of our fine ensemble.” A proud lilt. Eishi scoffs.

“A figurehead.”

“I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

“It doesn’t. Just have to keep the _pecking order_ straight.” His voice reverberates in a lower pitch, attempting a more impressive status. It probably would’ve work if not for the stretch of his neck as he craned his gaze to meet the second tallest club member.

“Oh _that_ was bad.” Sagisawa gives an arrogant huff of self importance. There were many instances where such behavior would elicit Eishi’s staple irritation at the finer society’s audacity to act in any way other than humble. It was so easy to forget Sagisawa’s pedigree in the drumming rhythm of a conversation. The constant, but erratic beat inspired the spontaneity of Eishi’s smiles and wit. Like a knee-jerk reaction, the shorter boy’s wings jolted into a pointless flap, hitting the space around him like a thug would mark his turf.  

“Race?” The electric desire rolls through Eishi only after he’s made the challenge, his tone far too eager for his liking, but irresistible. It seems like the most perfect solution to protect his pride and it smears his face with a competitive grin. His body feels the thrum of anticipation courses through the tips of his wings, putting him in a coiled up crouch. He slows his breath trying to predict his opponent’s inhale. There is a staunch extension of the taller boy’s wings, prepped and ready.

“Down the cliff-side. Tag Umino to win.” Poor girl.

“Takayama.”

“Deal.”

They didn’t even need to rev behind a countdown, the proverbial gunshot went off as they fling themselves of the cliff-side, letting gravity take them. Immediately at the rush of the wind, their firing nerves meet validation with the climbing horizon. A helmet only forms on an afterthought in the blur of dark hair, and at its completion, it swallows the roar with a mind spinning silence.

The memory of a screaming downpour flits past his eyes. The vertigo of cutting loose, like the free fall of a liberated marionette. At the time, Eishi felt more like the cruel puppet master, merely untangling the already woven strings of control and trauma. He took the kindred mind that  flanked his right and lead him through a dream of illuminated beacons and air that sparkled with falling diamonds. Where a sense of heedless freedom engulfed them like the rain that consumed their speeding forms. Mindless conversation lulled by an adrenaline spiked high. Sagisawa glowed with a joy gasping for air and each breath wove his heart with unparalleled warmth.

Just like that memory, Sagisawa followed his lead, whether he wanted to or not.  


* * *

 

“Ei-chan! Sagisawa! Finally decided to…”

Kamoda trails as the barreling form of the two birdmen grows at an alarming speed, directly toward their existing pod of hovering bodies.

**“Get a head start Takayama, you’re the moving finish-line!”**

Eishi’s tweet is positively booming and it sends Umino and Kamoda careening to the side out of the way as they slice through the air toward the red birdman. Takayama’s face is reaction-less but he absorbs the sight with a widening focus.

 **“Why the hell are you warning him?”** Sagisawa tweets in an exasperated tone while Takayama sends himself into a dead weight plummet to the earth without preamble. Eishi takes an arching dive after him, a bullet of black. The white birdman is on Eishi’s tail in their mid air pivot, their forms now shrinking in the distance. In a surprise twist, left behind are the hovering flaps of the flock’s two most rambunctious members.

Umino looks at Kamoda with cocked eyebrow. Well wasn’t _that_ a sight to behold.

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of headcanons here: using their wings to express their mood, tweet's overriding language (which was revealed to be true in the process of writing this), perhaps a little pack mentality (hehe my birds are like wolves~)
> 
> In the end I simply adore Rei and the unique relationship he has with Eishi. It's affectionate but not without a foundation of tension.


End file.
